


The Dying Of The Light

by nesrynfaliq



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: (and it was prompted it's not my fault), Angst, F/M, I am Not A Nice Person, IT'S JUST SADNESS IN THE EXTREME, Like really this is Not A Nice Fic, Prompt Fill, Why do I do this to myself, and more sadness, and then more sadness, death cw, everybody shows up for goodbyes because I'm nice like that, followed by even more sadness, it's literally just...sadness, post ACOWAR, really this is tragic af this is worse than one of them dying on a battlefield like damn, terminal illness AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 22:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10345653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nesrynfaliq/pseuds/nesrynfaliq
Summary: Summary: ‘Mor x Azriel - Terminal AU - One of them is dying, though they try to hide it from the Inner Circle. The only other person who knows is their closest love. Can be mates or not.’ In this Mor is the one who is dying and they are mates. With Bonus Cassian/Azriel and Cassian/Mor because those relationships are important too.Teaser: It’s been months now. Months of quiet suffering and forced smiles and false reassurances. They’d kept it quiet. She had insisted. She hadn’t wanted to worry them, not so soon after the war, not when they’d all finally found the peace and happiness that they deserved with one another. But it’s close now and there had been a morning when she had woken up and gently squeezed his hand and murmured that she wanted to see them now.





	

It’s been months now. Months of quiet suffering and forced smiles and false reassurances. They’d kept it quiet. She had insisted. She hadn’t wanted to worry them, not so soon after the war, not when they’d all finally found the peace and happiness that they deserved with one another. But it’s close now and there had been a morning when she had woken up and gently squeezed his hand and murmured that she wanted to see them now. 

They had all come. In twos and threes with varying degrees of shock and grief and anger at the news, at seeing how thin and pale and drawn their Morrigan had become. Only a few weeks ago they would have sworn that she was radiant, eternal, infinite. Now...They’ve done everything, tried everything, the healers have fed her potion after potion, taken her blood, sliced into her over and over and she’s tired, she’s ready. It’s time. 

Feyre hugs her, cries quietly into the embrace but when she draws away her eyes are dry and her face is set and she will be strong for her friend, the woman who had saved her as surely as her mate had who now needs her. She won’t let her down. She finds a smile for Mor, who looks as though she needs one. Then she tells her firmly that, for her, she will make sure she never lets the hard days win. 

Rhys is quiet for a long time, sitting beside her bed in silence, staring at the deep purple blankets that are heaped on top of his cousin, his Third, his only remaining blood family. Finally he embraces her, holds onto her so tightly it’s as though he thinks he can stop her slipping away. But even Prythian’s most powerful High Lord is powerless before this. And he knows it. He promises her that she will be remembered by their people, by the world, and by her family. The last part means more to her than any other. 

Elain and Lucien visit together and Elain cries quietly the whole time while Lucien stands behind her, a hand on her shoulder, sad and quiet- for once lost for words. Mor finds a smile for them both and tells them to be strong. Elain squeezes her hand and asks the same of her. They stay for the longest, Elain fussing over her, trying to make her smile and laugh. After she leaves, and every day since, the vase at Mor’s bedside blooms with a different bunch of bright flowers that fill the room with a soft fragrance. 

Nesta doesn’t look at Mor when they visit. Cassian slumps into a chair beside the bed, haunted, speechless, as though carved from stone but Nesta is a flurry of activity. She paces up and down the room speaking of untried spells, of favours owed, of ships that can cross the sea and return with a cure, of doing something, of fixing this, of not giving up, not letting this win, not letting it beat her, not again, not again. When she finally looks up and meets Mor’s eyes she breaks. She crosses the room to her as quickly as she can and hugs her tight, one quick, tight squeeze and tells her in a fierce, if slightly tremulous voice, that she’d best give the afterlife hell. Mor grins at her and promises she will. Then Nesta glances to Cassian and nods to Mor, squeezes her mate’s shoulder, then slips out to give them a moment together. 

With Cassian the silence stretches even longer than it had with Rhys. Then he lifts his head, looks her straight in the eye and asks her, in a voice laced with thunder and anger, why the hell she didn’t say something sooner. How could she have done this to him? How could she have just stayed quiet and pretended everything was fine? How could she have let herself waste away all alone without letting them help her? And how the hell is he supposed to do any of this now without her?

They both break at the same moment, tears finally spilling from Mor’s eyes for the first time that day as Cassian bows his head and buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. Azriel slips from his place standing sentinel in the shadows and sits quietly on Mor’s bed, tightly gripping Cassian’s shoulder. The three of them sit together, sharing their grief and their strength out equally among them all until finally, with a small nod from Mor, Az kisses her forehead and leaves her and Cassian alone.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers quietly, cheeks still stained with her tears though they’ve ceased falling now. She’s wept enough because of this thing, given it her time, her pain, her patience, it’s had enough. Those tears she wept were for Cassian and now he needs her to be strong. “I’m sorry, Cass,” he looks up at her, still crying softly and for all her strength, all the iron in her bones and steel in her blood, her voice still shakes. “I didn’t want to hurt you before I had to and I...I didn’t want to spend the time I had left surrounded by grief and sadness, I-“ She takes a moment, closes her eyes, swallows down her guilt and his pain and composes herself to say carefully, “I wanted there to be a little more laughter and a little more light before it was time to go.” Cassian meets her eyes again as she says that and she finishes softly, “We all deserved that.”

At that he slides from his chair and onto her bed and pulls her gently into his arms. She puts his arms around his chest and clings to him too and for a long while all they do is hold each other. When he’s withdrawn a little at last and they simply sit quietly together, savouring the silence, the peace, she breaks it with a tentative word, “Cassian?”

“Mm?” He looks down at her, sorrow tightening his chest until he can barely breathe. He knows she’s tiring now, the day has worn her out, her voice rasps and every movement, however slight, seems to pain her. He gives her hand a small squeeze, wishing he could do something, anything. He’d give her half his strength, his health, his life for the rest of his days if that was what it took to save her and keep her with him. But he can’t. He can’t. Mother take him he can’t.

“I need you to promise me something,” she says, her whisper hoarse and raw but perfectly firm and audible. Her body has wasted in the months she’s spent sick and dying, she’s thin and skeletal, her skin faintly tinged with grey, her once thick, blonde hair thin and faded. But her eyes...Those beautiful brown eyes of hers remain the same, blazing with that same fierce, undying light that was kindled all those years ago when she decided to live and damn them all to hell.

“Anything,” he murmurs at once. This thing, this one thing he can do for her, whatever it is, whatever she needs, he’ll do it. If she wants to see her favourite play once more he’ll damn well march into Velaris and drag the entire production right up here into her bedroom, if she wants the world’s best chocolate cake for her final meal he’ll scour the whole of Prythian for her until he finds the perfect one, if she wants-

“I need you to look after Azriel for me,” she breathes. His heart shatters again. He starts nodding, opening his mouth to agree but she feebly squeezes his hand, not finished, and he quietens. “I need you, after I’m-“ she breaks off, the words choking her, then swallows and tries again, her control a little more forced this time. “When the time comes I, I need you to, to take care of him, Cass.” She lifts a feeble hand to wipe at the stray tear gathering at the corner of her eye but he reaches over, brushes it away with his thumb.

“I will,” he murmurs quietly, “I’ll look after him, Mor, of course I will.”

Mor gives him a shaky smile and squeezes his hand again, “I know,” she murmurs, “I know but I, I had to ask.” Cassian nods to her, understanding. “Just,” she breathes quietly, “Just don’t let him do anything stupid.” He’s been wonderful with her these past few months, she doesn’t think she could have coped with any of this on her own but he’s stubborn and secretive and she knows he’s capable of hiding what he’s truly feeling from even her. She needs Cassian’s promise that he won’t let his brother go to pieces once he’s alone.

Cassian nods firmly again, holding her gaze as he says solemnly, “I promise.” His words put her at ease and the tight knot in her chest seems to loosen, then, clearly trying to lighten things he jostles her carefully with a shoulder and asks with a small smile, “How are we defining ‘stupid’, then?”

Mor considers this for a moment then she says, voice shaky but a smile tugging at her lips, “Anything I would do,” Cassian’s smile broadens, but then she goes on, “ _Definitely_ anything you would do,” and a laugh bursts from him, sobered as he looks down at her, this woman who’s come to mean so much to him, he would have gladly died to protect- knowing she would do the same for him.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says thickly into her hair and she holds him as tightly as she can as she starts to tremble.

“I’m going to miss you too,” she chokes out, letting Cassian gently lower her back down onto her pillows.

He strokes his fingers softly through her hair then leans down and presses a soft kiss to her head, “You look exhausted,” he murmurs quietly to her and she nods, not bothering to try and correct him. “I’ll get Az now,” he says, not failing to notice the small smile that tugs feebly at her lips at the mention of his name.  “But I’ll be back later,” he warns her, moving towards the door.

“You’d better,” she calls weakly after him and catches his smile as he passes Azriel in the doorway.

Az pads towards her bed and sits down, stroking his fingers through her hair to push it away from her forehead which he feels with the back of his hand. A frown creases his brows and he shoos her down, tucking her in gently, a stern look on his face. “Sleep,” he orders her firmly, “You overdid things today.”

Mor huffs irritably but she can feel the pulses of concern that reach her through and she _is_ exhausted so she doesn’t protest to Az drawing the curtains and darkening the room for sleep. He perches on the edge of her bed, strokes his fingers through her hair then draws back. For a moment he hunches in on himself and the shadows swirl around him, the secrets they whisper making him tremble. She doesn’t need the bond to know what they say, to know that they’re telling him that her time is near.

He doesn’t need to think about that now, doesn’t need to confront it, not now, not like this. They still have time. Precious, precious little but...They still have time. He doesn’t have to face it yet. Not yet. “Rest,” he whispers softly to her, kissing her head and stroking back her hair, “just rest.” She nods, a sure sign of how exhausted she is that she doesn’t protest or tease him for being a fussy mother hen.

She shifts though, blinking blearily up at them, “The others, Az, I didn’t-“

“Shh,” he whispers soothingly, his fingers brushing her hair away from her face, setting it around her on her pillow, “I’ll talk to them,” he promises her quietly, “I’ll explain everything, don’t worry, just sleep, alright?”

“Alright,” she whispers hoarsely, barely able to keep her eyes open but she still murmurs out, “Thank you, Az.”

“Of course, Morrigan,” he breathes back, lightly kissing her. He touches his forehead to hers for a long moment then draws back, tucking the covers more firmly around her again. He slips his fingers into hers and remains there, holding her hand and watching her as she sinks quietly into sleep again.

****

_Peace_. The word his shadows whispers softly to him over and over, comforting him now as they prepare to embrace him again when he slips from this world into one of darkness again. He knows he should listen to him, knows that they’re right now, as they always are.

He had been confused at first when they had whispered that to him as he had watched over his love. Nothing about him, nothing about any of this, the illness, the secrets, the knowledge that the moment happiness had been within their grip it had been snatched from them by a cruel twist of fate, had felt like peace. But as he had watched her on a particularly bad night a week ago when she had struggled to breathe and all he’d been able to do was hold her, murmur to her, channel every bit of his frustration and fury for what this world was doing to her into his devotion to doing whatever he could for her that word had come again.

_Peace_ the shadows had insisted, more urgently this time and then he had understood. His mate was dying. She had been dying for months in truth, ever since that illness had come for her but...He had known then that it wouldn’t be long. His heart had rent in two then. To lose her, to be alone in this world without her was more than he could he stand, more than he could bare and yet...Those shadows had never lied to him. Never once in all the years, they had only ever given him base truth. They had not warned him she would soon die, instead they had told him that she would soon find peace. He wanted that for her, so desperately he wanted that for her, for an end to her pain, her suffering, for peace.

It’s been three days since she told their friends, their family, what she’s been going through. She’s barely eaten anything since, weakening by the day. They’ve rarely left her side the whole time, keeping her company, doing what they can to make her comfortable, to make her smile, helping Azriel take care of her.

 It’s late now however and they’re alone. She’s sleeping quietly beside him, her breathing shallow and ragged. The hand he holds has grown cold despite the fire roaring in the hearth and the blankets he’s piled on top of her.

_Peace_ the shadows whisper once more, the word now a soothing balm for his weary, grief-sodden mind. Then, _soon_. He sits up a little straighter, pure terror gripping his heart as he looks down at her, half-rising from where he sits beside her but he can’t see anything different, anything to worry him. A part of him relaxes but a few moments later she stirs, her eyes fluttering open, finding his by the light of the soft glow of the candles around her and the fire in the corner.

He knows that she understands, that she can feel what he can now feel. “It’s time,” she whispers, her voice a soft rasp.

He nods, softly stroking his fingers through her hair, able to feel exhaustion but also anxiety through the bond from her. He tries to keep his own mounting terror and pain from reaching her but he isn’t sure how successful he is. His voice is perfectly level and carefully controlled however when he says quietly, “I’ll call a healer, they can give you something for the pain, make you, make you comfortable and-“ he falters a little but before he can finish the quavering thought she interrupts him.

“No.” Her voice is stronger now than it’s been all day and he blinks down at her in surprise.

“Mor,” he whispers softly, fingers still stroking through her hair, needing to touch her, to hold onto her before he loses her. “There’s no reason for you to suffer more than you need to, please, just let me-“

“No healers,” she snarls flatly, shaking her head feebly, tears lining her eyes. “Please, Az, please, not that, not that, not-“

“Okay,” he breathes quickly, gripping her hand and squeezing it, leaning down and hugging her gently, wishing he could pull her into his arms and keep her safe, hating the crack of terror that splinters through her words. “No healers,” he soothes her softly, “No healers,” he says again and feels her slump with relief against her pillows.

“Azriel,” she whispers softly, her arms wrapped weakly around his chest, her words muffled against the skin of his neck. “Az, I need you to do something for me.” He draws away, cups her cheek in his hand and coaxes her through the bond to continue. “Please take me away from here,” she begs him, voice breaking with the strain of her need. She shakes her head, a tear falling from her eyes as she trembles, “I don’t want to,” she chokes, “I don’t want it,” her breathing is laboured, coming in ragged gasps as she tries to explain to him through the emotion clogging her chest, “I don’t want it to be like this, Az.” Her voice is brittle, empty, when she whispers, “I don’t want to die in a cage.”

Az watches her for a long moment then he makes his decision. As carefully and tenderly as he can, murmuring quiet apologies every time she winces, and gently wraps her in one of the thicker blankets to keep her warm then he lifts her carefully into his arms and carries her out onto the balcony.

It’s late and the sky above them is a great black mass dotted with chips of bright diamond. A slow smile spreads across Mor’s face and she closes her eyes as she first soft breath of wind kisses against her skin. Azriel’s heart aches for her, shut up for so long and kept away from the world she loves so much. He had only meant to bring her out here, settle himself on the big padded rocking chair they keep out here but....The smile on her face right now, the things she had said, the emotions that are barrelling into him from the bond – of comfort and strength and safety, he spreads his wings out behind them instead.

Mor opens her eyes again as she feels him step up onto the lip of the balcony then, as smoothly and gently as he can for her sake, he launches them up into the sky, flapping his wings once, twice, pushing them higher, then stretching them out to their full extent, letting them catch on an updraft and send them smoothly higher where he angles himself carefully to hover gently, gliding gently over the city, a shadow on silent wings.

“Is this alright?” he asks her softly, glancing down at her where she’s nestled in his arms. She just nods to him, staring out at the city spread beneath them, a glittering spider’s web of crystalline stars sparkling beneath them, drinking it. But through the bond he feels her push all of her love and gratitude to him.

Azriel softly kisses her forehead and then glides calmly over the city. This is a routine they’ve performed a hundred times before. Most frequently when she had nightmares, he would simply scoop her into his arms, spread his wings and launch her into the sky. When nothing else would work, when he could feel her anxiety down the bond, how trapped and caged she felt, the desperate need to get out, and he would carry her with him into the skies, into the limitless freedom that they offered her. It would always calm her, always bring her peace, it seems right then to have brought her here now, to let her taste this, this last brush of freedom and pure joy before he has to let her go.

Unable to help himself he leans down and softly brushes his lips against hers, “I love you.” Another tender, fleeting kiss, his voice shaking a little as he swears to her, “I will always love you.”

“I know, Az,” she breathes, coaxing him back down to her so she can kiss him once more herself. “I love you too,” she murmurs her voice catching. Leaning forwards she rests her head softly on his chest and whispers faintly, “I always have, Azriel.” Her eyes close, her fingers opening and closing against his leathers, as though to anchor herself to him, to keep hold of him to ensure they’re never parted. With her last whisper of breath, the two of them cradled together in the darkness separating the stars around them, she makes a promise to him too, “I always will.”

His light goes in the heavens that hold them both and he closes his eyes as the darkness embraces them. To her it brings peace, rest, an end to suffering and pain. To him it brings silence. Alone. He is alone again and without her smile to guide him.

***

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for suffering through this as well. If you wish to vent your feelings at me in a screaming comment I welcome this.


End file.
